


Central Reservations

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-17
Updated: 2003-11-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 03:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin have both ran away from their lives.  As fate would have it, the two meet in Mexico.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

**Summer, 2004**

 

"Taylor." 

"Hello." 

"Oh. Hey," Justin replied, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. 

"Where are you?" 

"Out of the country." 

"Pardon?" 

"I told you Sasha. I had to get away. I need time to think." 

"What is there to think about?" The line was silent and Sasha realized that Justin wasn't going to answer him. "Fine. Go. Think. Enjoy yourself. Relax. But...come home to me," he finished in a whisper. 

Justin sighed, unsure of what to tell the man. "I...I have to go Sash. I'll call you later, when I'm settled in." 

"Alright. Can I at least know where you are? Where you'll be staying?" 

"No," Justin smirked, sure that he had just taken the wind out of Sasha's sails. 

Now it was Sasha's turn to sigh. "Right. Dah sveedahnyah." 

"Bye Sash." Quickly, Justin broke the connection and turned his cell phone completely off to ensure that there were no more unwanted calls. He looked around the terminal, wondering where to go next. "Um...where can I find the island hopper?" he asked the person seated behind the information desk. 

The overweight man looked absolutely bored as he sat in front of a small security monitor. He looked up at Justin with an air of indifference and pointed towards a set of stairs. "Uh - thanks." The man nodded and settled back in to watching the monitor. 

After searching for ten minutes, Justin finally located and boarded the small island bound plane. For the first time in nearly a year, Justin was able to really breathe and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make the most of it. He relaxed back into his seat, closed his eyes and smiled. 

Cozumel, here I come.


	2. Central Reservations

"Wilder! Wilder! What the hell are you doing?" 

He barely spared the vertically challenged man in front of him a glance as he tied on his apron and grabbed an order pad from the counter, shoving it in his front pocket. 

"Wilder, I'm telling you. If you're late one more time..." 

Finally Oscar turned and glared at his boss. "Look...Jimmy...I'm only twenty minutes late. Keep givin' me shit and I'll walk out. You won't even have to bother firing me." 

"Ah..." Jimmy looked around, suddenly realizing his potential blunder. Wouldn't look good if he drove the boss's boyfriend away. "Just...try and make it here on time, okay Wilder?" 

"Sure. You bet," Oscar smirked and used his backside to push through the swinging door between the kitchen and the main dining room. "George...darling...what tables will I be covering this evening?" Oscar asked the head waiter, his voice syrupy sweet. It was the only way to get anything out of the stiff collared man, who was now standing rigidly against the wall, awaiting a signal from one of his tables. 

George's permanent expression of detached boredom had always interested Oscar, who himself rarely smiled unless he wanted something. But George had perfected the look of disinterest. Had made quite the art form out of his flat, pencil thin lips and dull eyes. Still, he was a good man to have on one's side, if you were patient enough to learn his habits and machinations. 

"You have section four." 

"The terrace? But the tips suck on the terrace." The only outward reaction he received from George was a slight rising of one eyebrow. There was just no way to argue with the old stone face. "Fine. I'll take the terrace." He declared, as if he actually had a say in it. 

Placing himself along the outside wall of the stone terrace, he sighed in frustration. If only he could smoke. Jimmy and his damn rules about no smoking on the job. Go figure. He couldn't have one when he needed one the most. 

The terrace was completely empty. At mid-afternoon, the tourists would still be out doing touristy things. The flood of customers would begin near sun-down and wouldn't let up until they had snuffed out the last candle in the wall sconces. Even the main dining room had only had two tables filled. Straightening up, Oscar pushed himself away from the wall. 

Just in the nick of time too, he realized as he noticed Peter leading a new patron to the table next to the railing. 

The terrace, though it was by far the best location in the restaurant, seemed to attract the tightest of customers. Not the upper and upper middle class droids that shelled out cash as if it were going out of style. No...he got the nature freaks that wanted to be in the ‘natural light', or the cheap businessmen that always came in with five screaming kids and a nagging wife in tow - making sure to write the entire thing off as a business expense. No tip needed to do that though. 

And then there were the not-so-starving artists, he thought to himself as he watched a young blonde man pull a sketch pad from the bag at his feet, preparing to draw the gardens most likely. 

He was a very beautiful boy at first glance and at second and third. Oscar actually had trouble looking away from the sight. The boy's white-blonde hair shone brightly in the sunlight. His pale skin, almost milky white, looked as smooth as silk. One might think he was a model instead of an artist. It almost seemed a shame that he was on the wrong side of the drawing. 

"Welcome to Luc's," he greeted as he approached the table. "My name is Oscar and I will be your waiter tonight. Our special tonight is..." he droned on, having memorized the words so that he said them in his sleep. "Would you care for an hors d'oeuvre to start?" 

His nose was buried in the menu now and his voice was slightly muffled as he spoke. "Hmm...I'll just have a glass of white wine and the fondue to start." 

"Ah, of course sir. Any particular wine in mind, sir?" 

The boy smiled up at him brightly and Oscar's breath caught. He was sure he had never seen such a brilliant smile in his life. "Just...whatever you think is best." 

"Very good, sir." Before he could walk away, Oscar turned back to the blonde and cleared his throat. "I am sorry sir but it is procedure. If I could only look at your id..." 

"Oh. Right. Yeah, hang on." He pulled his faded green surplus bag into his lap and rifled through it until he came upon his wallet. "Here ya go," he said, passing Oscar his licence. 

Justin Taylor. 

New York. 

21 years old. 

Oscar was a bit taken aback by the last bit of information. They kid looked as though he could be fifteen. Maybe get a way with seventeen or eighteen at the most. But twenty-one? 

"I'll be right back with your order sir." 

"Thanks." 

Oscar nodded and was off to the kitchen. When he returned there was another man seated in his section. After serving the younger man...Justin...he went to see about the new guest. 

"And what will you be having to start?" 

The man leered up at him. "A little of this...a little of that," he said cryptically. 

"Excuse me?" 

"A bottle of your best red and...a good time." He winked, though it looked more like he had a nervous tick. "How ‘bout I get your number and maybe you can help me out." 

Oscar gave the man a once over and stifled a sneer. He had to be at least in his late forties. His suit was nice, tailored but not designer, which indicated that he had money but rarely actually spent any of it. Wrinkles were not yet in plain sight, but he could tell that it would only be a matter of time. A rather cheesy fake tan covered his face. And then...the jackpot...a wedding band, yellow gold and glinting in the afternoon sun like a beacon from a lighthouse. But even that he could overlook. He just couldn't shake the bad vibes that he got from the guy and he knew better than most to trust his first instinct. 

"And your wife?" 

"My wife?" He took a moment to study his left hand and shrugged. "She goes her way. I go mine." 

"How convenient. But...Sorry. I don't give out my number." As an afterthought, he hastened to add, "Company policy." 

"Oh? That's not what I heard." 

His spine suddenly felt as though it had a steel rod through it as his body tensed reflexively. "I'm sorry but you're mis-" 

"No darlin'...Luc was quite clear-" 

"Get your fucking hand off of me!" Oscar hissed as the man settled a fleshy hand over his hip. 

"Now, now. Don't go gettin' all upset." 

"Don't. Touch. Me." Teeth gritted and eyes shooting daggers, Oscar allowed him to caress his arm for all of a split second before he grabbed the man's wrist with his free hand and twisted it over and in towards his body. 

The loud cry of pain drifted into the building and withing moments Jimmy and George were pulling Oscar away from the innocent old man that was still seated at his table. Although, with his arm twisted just so, that his face was now flat upon the table. 

"Let me go," Oscar raged, kicking his legs out in hopes of getting free from the painfully tight grips on his arms and shoulders. 

The man, who had finally recovered, cradled his twisted hand and forearm against his chest and stood up, looking every bit of the haughty gentleman that he was not. "I have never been so insulted in all of my life! He tried to break my wrist! The man is a menace and I will never set foot in this foul place again!" 

George immediately went to the man to placate him while Jimmy continued to pull Oscar, as discreetly as possible, through the dining room and into the kitchen. "What the fuck was that, Wilder?" 

Oscar absent mindedly rubbed his left arm, which still smarted from Jimmy's hold. He focused on the pain. Anything to avoid thinking about how badly he had just fucked up. 

"You can't treat customers like that. I just..." Jimmy shook his head. 

"The guy is slime. You probably know that though, don't you. Luc probably told you he was coming in. Had you seat him in my section. Am I right, Jimmy?" 

Without denying or confirming anything, Jimmy poked him in the chest. "You...are fired." 

Though he knew he was in the right and though he knew that he needed the money, Oscar nodded curtly and untied his apron. "Ya know, Jimmy, Luc always said you were a spineless sonofabitch. But...me? I defended you." He tossed the apron onto a counter and smiled as he backed up towards the door. "I told him...there was no way you were a sonofabitch. You probably just washed up to shore with the rest of the jellyfish." And with that he was gone. Without a job and, after that little stunt with Luc's latest customer, probably no home. 

"Well, Kinney...looks like you're back to square one."


	3. Central Reservations

"Get your fucking hand off of me!" 

Justin's eyes darted from his sketch of the gardens to the source of the vehemently whispered command. His heart squeezed painfully and his breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. Wanting to do something, but not sure the situation warranted him to play hero, he sat very still and trained an eye on the waiter. Oscar. His back was stiffened and Justin could tell that he was trying very hard to contain his temper as the bands of muscle in his arms and neck stood out in sharp relief. 

The old guy seemed to be trying to calm him down, but the dreamy waiter was having none of it. Before Justin could process what was happening, Oscar had the guy pinned to the table with a wrist lock. It took all of his will power not to stand up and cheer. 

The perv's cries had obviously been heard by the rest of the staff, and two men, both looking old and terminally peevish, came rushing outside. 

A few minutes later, the waiter having been carted away into the restaurant, the old guy was still receiving his fair share of ass-kissing and Justin had positively lost his appetite, watching the head waiter stroke the man's ego into oblivion. 

After a few minutes, it was time for them to play pacifier with him. Hushing the witness, one might say. "Sir, I do hope that we haven't disturbed your meal today. Is there anything I can get you? On the house, of course!" 

Justin looked up at the man and wanted to laugh. He was trying so hard to smile, but all he seemed to be able to manage was a slight twitch of his upper lip. "Oscar?" 

"Pardon me, sir?" 

"You can get Oscar - my waiter." 

The other man looked utterly flabbergasted. "I...oh, well he..." 

Then it hit him. They'd fired him for causing a scene. Sure, he had seen bus boys get fired for less at his parent's country club, but it was still ridiculous. "You do realize that man was trying to accost him right?" He pointed a finger directly at the perv that was now happily enjoying his free lobster. 

"Well..." 

"Right. I didn't realize that this was the type of establishment that allowed their help to be treated like animals." And without another word, Justin shoved his new sketches into his bag and left. 

As great as righteous indignation was, and as much as he had enjoyed walking out with his principles intact, none of that had filled his empty belly. The only thing he had eaten all day had been a package of peanuts during the flight, but that had probably worked against him anyway because he had felt thirsty all damn day. So his first order of business was to find food. 

Since he had chosen to walk instead of finding a cab, he was able to find the smaller places that the tourists tended to overlook. The first place he came upon was in the middle of a long line of buildings. A faded old sign by the entrance proclaimed that it was called the Blue Monkey. 

As far as he could tell, it was a bar. And really...that description was extremely kind. The expression ‘hole in the wall' did it more justice. There were four customers total and none of them looked as though they needed or wanted an outsider in their midst. One man even growled at him from behind his beer. 

Wanting to appear more bored and less frightened by the scene, Justin began to slowly back out of the building. A moment before his foot would have hit the sidewalk just beyond the door, his back hit a wall. Turning swiftly, he looked up and into the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. Vaguely familiar eyes. 

Taking in the entire package of the man at his back, his eyes widened in surprise. "Oscar!" The man looked down at him and arched a questioning eyebrow. "Um...I was at the restaurant e-earlier," he stuttered, feeling a bit self conscious under the man's intense gaze. 

"I know who you are," he replied coolly. "What I don't know is what you're doing here. Shouldn't you be enjoying your over-priced, undercooked meal about now?" 

Justin shrugged. "I told ‘em to fuck off," he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. 

Oscar looked at him and shook his head. "What do you want? A fucking medal?" The man pushed past him and took a seat at the bar. 

Justin followed him back into the building, his courage returning with the somewhat familiar new presence. "I saw what that guy did. He totally crossed the line. No means no." 

Brian scoffed at him and motioned to the barkeep for a beer. "What are you? A public service announcement?" 

"I just wanted to say...that I think it stinks - what they did. Firing you." 

"Yeah well..." He shrugged the comment off and chugged his beer. 

"No, really. You didn't deserve to be fired for that!" 

The man eyed him snidely, "How would you know? You don't know shit about me! Especially what I may or may not deserve." 

Justin nodded, conceding his point. "True, but-" 

"Andrew?" A heavy set man boomed from the back doorway. "Andrew, my boy!" The big man waddled forward, smoothing his shiny salt and pepper hair back with his hands. His smile was crooked, but he had a look about him that was somewhere between psychotic puppy kicker and a kindly old grandfather. "Yer in here early, even fer you." 

Oscar rolled his eyes and smiled wryly. "Hey Hector." 

"Hmm...let me guess. Fired?" 

"Yeah, well they're assholes. You know how it is." 

"That I do, my friend." The man completely ignored Justin as he pushed past the smaller man and hefted himself onto the stool beside Oscar. "What did Luc have to say about it?" 

"Haven't seen him yet." Oscar looked away as if working up courage and then turned back to Hector. "Hey man...think I can crash here, with you? Ya know...if things get..." 

Now it was Hector's turn to look away. "Andrew...you know that I have no problem with it. But-" 

Oscar put his hand up to stop the explanation from going any further. "It's okay. I know how it works. Luc wouldn't appreciate it. No problem." He finished off his beer and slid off the bar stool. Without another word, Oscar...or Andrew, brushed past Justin and out of the bar. 

Outside once more, Justin looked around quickly in hopes of catching up with the mysterious man. He was nowhere in sight and Justin made himself stop from running in random directions in hopes of finding the stranger. Though he wanted to, badly. He wasn't sure why but somehow and for some reason the beautiful now ex-waiter with the deep hazel eyes had captured his interest. 

Still...this was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful vacation. With his mind quickly and firmly set on leaving the situation alone, Justin sent up a silent prayer that the man would be okay. Hopping into a taxi and working to explain where he wanted to go, he missed seeing the hazel-eyed man two doors down from the bar, smoking and watching him intently. 

*** 

"What do you mean, you can't send anyone until tomorrow?" Justin snapped into the phone. He gritted his teeth, annoyed but trying desperately to remain calm. 

Just what I needed to start things off with a bang, he mused. But at least you aren't at home. 

It wasn't so much that he had to leave Pittsburgh. It was that if he didn't leave, there was no way he could have been held responsible for what he might have done. Sasha had been on his case for months about moving in with him. His parents were beginning to torture him with lectures on the benefits of a furthered education. The New York gallery that he sold his work through was getting antsy about his deadlines on several projects, which were looking more and more impossible with every passing day. Justin was in dire need of a vacation. 

A vacation from his vacation as his sister had said before seeing him off at the airport. Of course, Molly was naturally a smart ass, so he didn't take the jab to heart. And she was right, partly. 

After taking the cab back to the small town home where he would be staying, he took a few minutes to stroll around the gardens in the back yard, check the swimming pool's temperature and open a few windows to ventilate the house, Justin realized just how much he had missed the place. How very much at home he had always felt there. 

The relaxation was quickly brought to an abrupt halt though, when Justin had made up his mind to shower before doing anything else. He had flipped the water lever up and screamed as the shower head and pipe groaned and sputtered, finally spraying the tub with dark brown water. At least he assumed it was water. 

He had immediately called information and was redirected to a plumber, which was currently where his annoyance lay. He listened to the man on the phone before nodding to the empty room. "Of course it's an emergency. My water looks like sewage! Yes, of course I checked the other faucets! They were fine. But there's only the one shower. I need for it to work." He sighed in defeat. "Fine. Tomorrow morning then." He placed the phone back on the base and he let his body sink down onto the bed. 

Only three hours into his vacation... 

He struggled not to think about it. Not to let the negativity of the situation hit him, else he would be no better off there than he would have been in New York or Pitts. "Well...sponge bath it is then," he mumbled and set about ridding himself of the travel grit that he felt was still clinging to his body. 

Any other time, he would have unpacked everything right away. Made an effort to get the little things done so that he could fully begin to relax and enjoy his vacation. But at the rate he was going at, Justin figured he had better make the most of what was left of the day. 

Pulling out his pale blue linen top by Varvatos and ivory drawstring cotton pants by Helmut Lang, Justin wondered when he had acquired so many labels. Around a year ago. That was the likely answer. No...that was the only answer. 

He had never been very big on clothing, even though his parents had never let him want for the finer things. His favorite clothes were still his beloved old, grey, threadbare sweat pants and a white FCUK shirt that he'd had since he was at least seventeen. But Sasha had always insisted that he wore the best, even if it meant that Justin's fashion budget severely outweighed his budget for living expenses. As long as he wasn't paying... 

Sasha wasn't really a fashion queen either. He simply enjoyed showing Justin off. Almost as much as he enjoyed showing himself off. Justin wondered if that was all he really was. A glorified mannequin. A window dressing that looked particularly nice on Sasha's arm. 

"Fuck it." This was exactly what he had come there to get away from. Sasha was on his top ten list of things to avoid during the trip. The other man had already ruined his good mood with the phone call earlier. And Justin couldn't really blame him. They had argued the night before and the next day Justin had hopped the first outbound plane. If Sash had done that, he might feel a little worried. Maybe a little self conscious. But he had to do what he had to do. 

And at that moment...he had to dance.


End file.
